


Frisky Feedback

by Spoon888



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consent Issues, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Feedback, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Call it a midlife crisis, but Megatron had always wanted a chance to take part in a Starscream clone orgy.A shamelessly smutty 'Armada' episode AU.





	Frisky Feedback

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piru/gifts).



> I find TFP Megatron and Starscream so hard to write. Yet, here I am. 
> 
> Another request fill :)

Five warriors. His face. His mind. His memories. What better armada could Starscream have asked for? He tilted his helm to watch them soar into the sky, towards the _Nemesis's_ shadowed hull, and let himself chuckle darkly.

Yes, with such likeminded individuals carrying out his orders, what could possibly go wrong?

 

* * *

 

"Fire!" The Starscream in front of Megatron yelled.

Megatron had braced, ready to take the four shots pointblank, but nothing fired. He lifted a thick brow ridge, surveying the collection of -defected apparently- clones.

"What are you doing?" The first Starscream snarled at it's brethren. "You didn't shoot!"

"Neither did you!" The one standing directly behind Megatron snarked back. "You think you're in charge? Then _you_ shoot first. _I'll_ cover you."

Ah, Megatron smiled, a standoff. These clones shared many things with his Starscream, including his infamous cowardice. They knew whoever shot first, would be shot at _back_ first, possibly killed. Megatron was sure he could take down two, if not three, before their weapons became too much for his armour.

None of them wanted to be those first three.

In any case, negotiations had just reopened.

"You don't wish to kill your maker?" He rasped, surveying the twitching Starscream's surrounding him. "Understandable. Starscream's narcissism always did defy sense. Another proposition then?"

"There is nothing you have that we want," a third Starscream spoke. "Save maybe your helm on a platter."

"Second in a command?" He reminded them.

"We're not falling for your tricks!" The first Starscream snapped. "Quickly. Shoot him!"

"You shoot him!"

"After you!"

Megatron rolled his optics towards the ceiling as they went around again, arguing. These were Starscream -false Starscream's yes, but still Starscream. He'd known the slippery mech long and well, and he knew he had weaknesses beyond just his lust for power.

"Silence!" He barked, and their squabbling fell silent out of sheer habit. "Enough of this. I need a second and you need a purpose. We can help one another, can't we?"

"We have a purpose!" The first Starscream argued.

"And what do you imagine will be done with you once you complete it?" He purred, stepping closer to him. "You can't _all_ lead. Only the true Starscream can."

He could tell from the indignation that crossed all four of their faces that the 'true Starscream' was not present. As he had suspected. Starscream would never risk himself when a pawn could be sacrificed.

"I can look after you here." He continued, softening his expression. The first Starscream was cringing back, resolve breaking down. "I have shelter. I have energon. Starscream doesn't even have a transformation cog."

Out of the corner of his gaze he could see the Starscream's behind him looking between one another, nodding, weapons lowering. He refocused on the first Starscream. Megatron was close enough to him now that he could brush his claws along the underside of the clone's slender, delicate chin.

"Prove your worth to me." He prompted. "And you can stay. All four of you, welcomed back with glory."

Four pairs of wide optics stared at him, weapons lowered to the floor.

"Prove our worth?" The first Starscream clone was still unsure. "And what exactly were you planning on having us do?"

"Oh," Megatron looked them up and down. Truly, they were _identical_ to Starscream. "I've just thought of something..."

 

* * *

 

That he could no longer do this with Starscream, his Starscream- the real Starscream- made him savour this all the more.

Perhaps it was nostalgia that softened his temper, gentled his touches. Or maybe it was the knowledge that these clones, soon to die anyway, would never be capable of telling their maker how rounded his edges had become in his absence.

Even if the true Starscream were here, he couldn't have been as accommodating. Too many betrayals. Too much anger. He squeezed the wing in his servo at the thought, then rumbled a soft apology at the hiss it inspired.

"Down." He ordered, pushing the nearest Starscream to his knees and letting him kiss and lick at his codpiece. Another instinctively joined the first, and he had two of them silently bickering over who took pride of place, two glossa's spreading wet warmth over his armour, breathing into his armour seams.

The other two were at his sides, pressed up against him, biting at either side of his neck in near synchronisation. Was it intentional, or just a result of their clone nature? Would the real Starscream have been so eager?

He dismissed that thought, releasing his spike to the happy trills of the Starscream's at his feet.

The other two were grinding themselves against him, each trying to turn his helm their way. Lips parted for kisses. He drew his chin up, refusing, wondering if they'd taste like Starscream and not wanting to know the answer.

Did he want them to taste like him? Kiss like him?

He circled his arms around them, scratching thick claws along their aft plating. They arched their backs and pushed into his touch, a chorus of " _Megatron_..." rewarded him.

He dropped his arms, "Enough now." He brushed the Starscream's away from his spike when one of them won the battle and tried to swallow it whole.

Their looks of identical resentment amused him. These two, he'd have them first.

He pushed the standing Starscream's towards each other. They frowned, annoyed.

"Frag him." He told neither one in particular. "I want to watch."

That improved their mood, though he expected it wasn't all just for show. Starscream loved no mech as much as he loved himself. This must be the stuff of their greatest fantasies.

Megatron ignored the little voice in the back of his processor that tried to tell him he wasn't having such a bad time either.

He dropped to his knees with a heavy clang and was clambered upon immediately, one Starscream on each thigh. He kept an optic on the other two, watching as one folded at the waist and clung to a monitor bank, his panels split open, showing off a pretty pink valve.

The very same as his creator's.

Spike pulsing, he took the Starscream from his right knee and swung his slender legs over the whole impressive expanse of his lap. He slipped a claw in, carefully. The Starscream threw his helm back and whined.

The Starscream on the left thigh shifted to straddle him too, slipping behind his fellow clone. He wrapped slender arms around the other Starscream's middle and ran them up and down the length of his cockpit, showing it off.

Megatron snorted at the show. Starscream always did this. Squirming and flirting and prancing about, never sitting still long enough for him to just-

He yanked the closest Starscream up, positioning him above the stiff leaking tip of his spike, and lowered him down. The second Starcream reached around and started rubbing at the other's node, stroking him through the pain of the stretch.

Of course, unlike the original, these Starscream's had never had a spike before.

He was surprised he couldn't feel much difference. These Starscream's were just as pliant, just as accommodating.

"Ride me." He ordered the shivering mess in his lap, only half buried in his lithe frame.

Shuddering thighs rose. Starscream's face was pinched- but no, that wasn't pain. He knew Starscream well enough to know what ecstasy looked like.

Starscream whined when he came down again, stiffening and clenching when Megatron felt his spike meet resistance. This Starscream would be able to take him all though. His Starscream had done it a hundred times before, this clone could handle it too.

"Megatron," the Starscream gushed weakly, optics flickering.

"A little more pet," he said, the affectionate nickname from a time long since passed slipping out without conscious choice. "That's it. Almost there."

Inch by torturous inch, Starscream took him, valve mesh stretched to breaking point around him; plush and wet; still oozing lubricant where they were joined. He bounced Starscream, bucking his hips up, watching through shuttered optics as the clones in his lap ground against each other, one of them writhing on his spike, the other wishing he was.

The first Starscream, a clone so new and sensitive, overloaded and crumpled backwards. The other only caught him so he could drag him out of the way, ready to take his place. Next to Megatron were the other two, waiting to be tapped in, already wet and stretched for him from their own ministrations.

Perhaps four clones could match the stamina of his Starscream, but that's _all_ they could match him in.

He overloaded clone number two and moved on to the next in line, wondering, rather distractedly, what the real Starscream was doing right now...

 

* * *

 

On the ground, Starscream braced himself against a rock, riding out the aftershocks of pain. Stupid, defective technology! What good could come of using clones as fodder when their every scratch came back to him?

He didn't know what was going on up there, but it felt like he'd just been crushed by a steel wall.

How could soldiers who were essentially him be so fragging useless?

The pain died away soon, but it had left his sensory net in a mess. He shifted against his rock, the temperature of his frame climbing up a few degrees. He squinted up at the sky, it was orange and darkening, no reason for the temperature to be climbing.

His cooling fans snapped online.

"Whu-"

He gripped the rock he was reclined against when a wave of pleasure washed over his frame. Vocaliser catching on his cry as it turned into a warbling moan. Then again, his wings tingling with invisible touches, his tank tight with anxious tension.

Glorious pleasure shot up his spine and his arched his back with another cry. Valve and spike throbbing alike.

"What is- what is happen-" Were they having an orgy up there?! With each other?!

He felt a tug of pressure on his spike, and it popped out of it's housing, filling and extending quickly under ghostly stimulation. His hips thrust into air, and if he closed his optics, he could almost see himself sinking into a wet, warm valve.

This was _not_ part of the plan.

"Stupid, inconsiderate-!"

He was cut off with a gasp when warmth blossomed in his core, his valve flexing and clenching on nothing. He could feel lubricant building, beading around the edges of his panel. He groaned, aft grinding against the floor, when his anterior node throbbed like it was being rubbed.

It was all too much, spike and valve and wings and more, all at once. The feedback of what felt like all four mech's pleasure.

His aft stung where something sharp dragged across it, his hip joints tinged, like someone was straining his thighs. And then he felt it, pressure, pushing against his valve entrance. A lot of pressure, callipers aching like they were being stretched too far, mesh straining.

He knew that feeling, the speed and angle and movement. That was Megatron.

Hissing in fury but overcome with arousal, he squirmed on the ground, in the dirt, moaning, digits on his own sealed valve. It felt so real. He swore he could feel the heat of Megatron's spike, the weight of his frame, as though he were here with him.

There were other secondary touches too. The other clones with their spikes in each other, or Megatron's sharp talons pawing at their frames. He could feel the sting of claws grazing sensors. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have.

He overloaded, valve panel finally popping and clenching on air. Slumped, exhausted, pained, he lay on the ground and stared hazily into the sky.

How typical of Megatron, always finding knew ways to screw him over.

Shaking in the aftermath, he gripped his rock and rose.

Only for new pressure to start, again at his valve. He pressed his thighs together with a squeak, but it did little good. It was just as tight, just as overwhelming as before, like he was being fragged for the first time all over again.

"Oh no," he whimpered, giving in this time and stroking fingers into his valve. Megatron wasn't going to be satisfied until he'd had _all_ of the clones.

This was going to be... a _long_ night. 

 


End file.
